Angeles
by LeanaVine
Summary: Modern!AU. Javert is new to the police force, and the first criminal he encounters is a young, petty thief, Jean Valjean, who turns out to be more of a Robin Hood type character than a criminal. Over the years, a bond forms between the two. (Includes OC. Warning of mild violence. Includes Man/Man. Eventual Valvert, Valjean/Javert.) Rating and genres will eventually change.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This is a modern!AU. I never identify where this story takes place, but since the words Monseiur and Madame are still used, I suppose it's in France. Also, for all of my _Les Mis_ stories, I'll be using the characters from the movie version (so Hugh Jackman as Valjean and Russell Crowe as Javert). I've never seen the actual play, but I have read the book and watched the movie a thousand times. If you feel something is amiss with the characters or anything else, please feel free to let me know.

Please leave a review, and I'll put you on the wall of fame! I'll try to keep track as much as possible. If I miss your name, please tell me, and I'll take care of it right away, because I appreciate and love all of my readers.

As always, I do not share any views expressed by any characters in this story. And I own nothing in this story, except for Deputy Allard and a few miscellaneous characters.

Okay, please read, review, and enjoy!

* * *

Javert was new to the force, and was on his first practice run with Deputy Allard. It had taken a long time to gain the trust of his fellow men, and Javert tried his best to hide his excitement. At twenty-two years old, Javert showed much promise in his scores from the police academy, and his willingness to follow every order. He was an eager young mind, bound to do well as an officer of the law.

Allard had stopped at a small cafe for a coffee and offered to get Javert something, but the young man denied the proposal. He sat in the squad car, waiting for Allard to return. It was bittersweet that nothing interesting had happened yet. Of course, Javert only prayed for the safety of his city, but he had wished to see Allard in action. The man had become a legend, and he was getting older, so it was not likely he would stay on much longer.

A voice came through the radio as Allard waited in line for his coffee. Javert felt slightly panicked, unsure if he should go in and retrieve the deputy. The voice reported shoplifting in the area, and asked if anyone was around to respond. Javert nervously picked up the radio, speaking into it with a false-confident voice. "This is Officer Javert. I'm on it."

With that, he took off running. The suspect was last seen leaving a small mini-mart a few streets over. Javert's heart pumped heavily with enthrallment. When he reached the street in question, he paused, looking around. Most likely the thief hadn't gotten to far, and was probably trying to dispose of anything that could make him identifiable, such as a hoodie or a backpack.

Javert hurried down the sidewalk, looking in every direction. He spotted a suspicious looking individual down a back alley, rummaging through a messanger bag. Javert quickly approached, shouting out, "Stop! Police!"

The young man turned, looking at him with surprise. Then he smiled before standing, running with the messenger bag in his his hand. Javert called out, "Stop!" chasing after him around the corner. The thief was faster than Javert, but Javert was unrelenting.

When the thief turned a corner, Javert halted, running the opposite way to cut him off on the other side of the building. He lunged out, tackling the thief to the ground. The thief struggled, but Javert managed to turn him over onto his stomach, holding one of his hands behind him. "That's quite enough!" he warned.

Javert unclipped his radio from his belt, announcing, "This is Officer Javert. Suspect has been apprehended. Requesting assistance." He glanced around, looking for a street name so he could identify his location. "Broadway Avenue." Javert returned the radio to his belt, still holding the thief down. He didn't have a gun or handcuffs yet, since today was just supposed to be more of an introduction.

"Hey," the thief grumbled underneath him, "how do you even know I did anything?" He squirmed under the weight of Javert's knee on his back.

Javert scoffed. "People who have nothing to hide, hide nothing. Why would you run if you were innocent?"

The thief did his best to shrug. "Maybe I have policophobia." He glanced at Javert's face, then smirked. "Or pogonophobia..."

Javert scowled at him. "That's enough out of you." He paused before reciting his Miranda Rights. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney and have an attorney represent you before any questioning if you wish. You can deicde-"

"How old are you anyway? You seem pretty young."

Javert sighed, frustrated. "Allow me to continue, monsieur. You can decide at any time to exercise these rights and not answer any questions or make any statements. Do you understand each of these rights I have explained to you?"

"I don't know. Maybe you should repeat them." It was hard to see, but the thief gave Javert a cheeky grin. Sirens could then be heard in the distance, and the thief licked his lips, which Javert then noticed were slightly bloody. "My name's Jean, by the way. Shouldn't you have asked that yet, or looked for an ID?"

"Just be quiet," Javert warned him.

Shortly after, Allard pulled up, hurrying over to Javert. "Javert, what the hell happened?"

"There was a call while you were preoccupied, so I took care of it," Javert responded in the most respectable tone he could muster. He held out a hand, silently asking for a pair of cuffs. When Allard handed them over, Javert asked, "Would you mind searching that messenger bag? I haven't gotten the chance yet." He cuffed Jean's hands behind his back, then helped him stand.

As Javert walked Jean over to Allard's squad car, Jean whispered, "Y'know, you're pretty gentle for a cop. You must be new." Javert said nothing, but simply put a hand on Jean's head to gently push him down into his seat. He closed Jean's door, then rolled down the window so he could breathe.

Allard had found assorted foods in the messenger bag: lunch meat, a bag of rolls, a couple packs of miniature donuts. The deputy shook his head. "I thought Jean was done playing Robin Hood."

Javert cocked a brow. "He's had prior offenses?"

Allard nodded. "Typically, he steals food, but we never find it once we apprehend him. He's already delivered it by then. Jean's a little too fast for some of us old-timers."

"Delivered it? I don't understand. You mean he steals food and gives it to people?"

"That's exactly it. Makes me feel pretty damn guilty when I arrest him, but it's part of the job." Allard started over to the car, and Javert followed, a bit shocked at what he'd heard. The deputy leaned against the door, half-smiling at Jean. "So, who was this batch for, Jean?"

Jean looked away from him to the back of the seat in front of him, his smugness fading away to show shame. "Madame Faucheux."

With a nod, Allard mumbled. "I see. Her daughter is sick, isn't she? What was her name?"

Jean murmured, "Adalene." He turned to Allard with a saddened expression. "Please, Allard, let me take her the food, then I'm all yours."

Shaking his head, Allard pondered, "I just don't understand you, Jean. Why don't you just pay for the food you give away? Your father is extremely wealthy-"

"I will not spend a cent I have not earned," Jean spat. "These people are suffering; they should be allowed the right to food that they need."

"The law is the law, Jean. I'm going to have to take you in."

Jean looked heart broken. "Please, deputy, let me give them the food, or give it to them yourself. Please, they need it!"

Without another word, Allard rolled up Jean's window, and the young man threw a tantrum in his seat. Allard sighed in disappointment. He turned to Javert, his hands on his hips. "Would you mind running the food back to the store? You make a report of everything and have the store give you a price on the goods. I'll run Jean into the station." He opened his door, and Jean could be heard shouting obscenities at him. "I'll have someone swing by and pick you up from the store."

When Allard drove off, Javert stood there dumbfounded. He ran a hand through his jet black hair, letting out a deep breath. He'd assumed Jean was simply a punk, but to hear that he'd stolen food for a single mother... Javert felt sorry for the teen. He gathered up the messenger bag, then made his way back to the mini-mart.

Javert turned over the items to the clerk, who seemed pretty shaken up. He nearly rolled his eyes at the young woman with eyeliner staining her face. Surely, it couldn't have been that terrifying to see Jean run out with a bag of food. Maybe she'd been afraid of losing her job over the incident, which was a distinct possibility. Javert usually saw a different cashier each time he came into this particular store, and he wondered if Jean had anything to do with that.

The sniffling woman rang up the items, printing out a receipt for Javert, who gave her a nod before leaving. Officer Roche drove up shortly after, giving Javert a ride back to the police station. Apparently he'd heard about what happened, because he spouted off about Jean.

"That boy is always causing trouble, embarrassing us all. At least you caught him before he got rid of the evidence. Sometimes, we never find out where he took the food, and we have to take that loss. It doesn't make sense. The Valjean family is rich, so why does Jean steal? If he wants to be charitable, he should just pay for what he gives away.

"He'll probably be gone before we even get back. His dad always pays his bail pretty quick. If that was my kid, I'd let him sit in jail. Maybe that'd teach Jean a lesson. If he keeps getting busted out, he'll just keep getting into trouble. And with all the money Monsieur Valjean blows on Jean's bail, you think they could buy enough food to feed us all."

Javert sat quietly, processing everything Roche had said. When they reached the police station, Jean was leaving. An older man with white hair had a hand wrapped around the teen's shoulder, and he cast a smile to the passing officers. Javert recognized him as one of the local pastors. Was that why he was always so forgiving of Jean's misdeeds?

As he walked in the station, Javert approached Allard, handing him the receipt. "Was that man with Jean his father?"

Shaking his head as he glanced over the receipt, Allard replied, "No, that was Father Madeleine, Jean's grandfather. Apparently, Mr. Valjean thought that sending Jean to live with his priest grandfather would reform him. No such luck, it seems." He half smiled, handing back the recipet before turning towards his office. "Good work today, Javert," he commented over his shoulder as he walked away.

As Javert wrote out his report about Jean Valjean, he couldn't shake his curiosity about the young man. He snuck into the records room, pulling Jean's file. At only sixteen years old, Jean had already been apprehended five times. Javert wondered if he'd been caught every time that he stole food for a family, or if there were undocumented cases.

By the end of the day, Javert knew everything about Jean. He handed in his report to Allard, since the sheriff was out on business. As Javert turned to leave, Allard asked, "So, I supposed you've done your homework on Jean by now." Javert looked back at him with confusion, silently wondering how he already knew that. With a smile, Allard told him, "You're a curious young man. I'd suspect that someone like Jean would intrigue you."

Javert swallowed, looking down at the floor. "Sorry, Allard."

Allard waved it away. "It's fine. We all wonder why Jean is the way he is."

With that, Javert took his leave. A feeling of guilt twisted in his stomach. He left, walking to a nearby store. He would be happy when he received his own squad car. After buying a few items, he took a bus. Javert tapped his foot nervously, as if he would get in trouble for what he was doing.

Javert walked from the bus stop where he was dropped off, finally locating the house he'd been looking for. He walked up the steps, rapping on the door with his knuckles. A few seconds later, a middle-aged woman came to the door. She looked slightly frightened to see a police officer standing there. "Is everything alright, officer?" she asked in a weak voice.

"Madame Faucheux?"

She nodded, stepping onto her porch and closing the door behind her. A dog barked, trying to get outside to see whom their company was. Javert half smiled, reassuring her, "Don't worry. I'm only here to deliver this." He held up a bag of groceries. "Jean Valjean sends his best wishes."

Madame Faucheux was silent for a moment, before smiling, taking the bag with a chuckle. "That boy..." She looked up at him. "Thank you, officer." Her smile faded. "Was he arrested?"

With a nod, Javert replied, "Yes, madame, but he's been released."

The older woman looked confused. "I don't understand. Did he tell you to bring this to us?"

Javert felt a little embarrassed. "No, madame. After learning about what Jean planned to do with the food he stole, I felt it would be right to buy these for you. He was very upset when he was unable to deliver the groceries to you."

Madame Faucheux grinned, reaching up to touch Javert's face, feeling his well-groomed beard. "God bless you, officer." He nodded to her, and turned to leave. Though he was happy that Madame Faucheux could now feed her sick daughter, there was still the remnant feeling of guilt.

"What are you doing here?"

Javert looked up to see Jean standing there, hands in his pockets. Javert was slightly surprised, but nodded to the younger man. "Jean. I didn't expect to see you here."

"I asked what you're doing here," Jean repeated, a bit more stern this time.

Javert scowled. "I don't see why I need to tell you my business. Seeing as you've already been in trouble once today, I would think it best that you stay home."

"I came to check on Adalene. Is that illegal?" They were both silent, then Jean sighed. "I'm sorry. But I care about this family. I care about everyone in this community."

"There's nothing wrong with that," Javert told him. "I care about the people of this town, as well, but I don't steal to take care of them. You're obviously a smart young man. You should know better, Jean Valjean."

Javert walked away, and Jean watched him for a bit, then walked up to the Faucheux residence. He was beyond stunned to hear that Javert had delivered groceries to Madame Faucheux. As he sat beside Adalene's bed, talking to her and reading to her, Jean couldn't help but wonder what had made Javert finish the work he'd started that morning.


	2. Chapter 2

In the following week, Javert was given a standard issue pistol, two pairs of handcuffs, and his own squad car, along with everything else he would need for his job. Javert tried not to let his excitement show. There was a part of him that feared this day would never come. He pushed the pessimistic thoughts away, trying to enjoy his new position.

As he was on patrol, a call came through on the radio. Another shoplifting. Javert was in the area, so he answered the call. As he approached the market that had been robbed, Jean ran out of an alley, slamming into the front of Javert's car. Javert gasped, stomping on the break. Jean fell to the ground, and Javert tore out of his car, kneeling by the teen. "Dear God, Jean, are you alright?" he asked frantically.

Jean attempted to sit up, rubbing his head. Javert propped him up against his knee and pulled his radio off his belt, about to call for an ambulance, when Jean stopped him. "Wait, Javert, don't."

Javert stared at him, dumbfounded. "Jean, I just hit you with my car. You need medical attention."

Shaking his head, Jean told him, "No, really Javert, I'm fine. This is what I wanted."

The officer was beyond confused. "What on Earth are you talking about, Jean? You _meant_ to get hit by my car?" Why would the teenager what something like that?

Jean smiled, chuckling a little. "Can we talk in your car?" Javert helped Jean to his feet, and Jean gently pushed his hands away, indicating that he could walk by himself. He made his way to the passenger door, and Javert hesitated before getting in the car himself. Jean sighed once he was seated, leaning back. "That's better."

"Jean, are you the one that robbed the market?" Javert was straight to the point.

Jean scoffed. "Who else? 'Course it was me." He held up his messenger bag. "This was going to be for old Monsieur Savatier, but I doubt he'll want any of this now that it got smashed." He placed the bag in the floorboard.

Javert shook his head lightly. "I still don't understand. Why did you mean to get hit by my car? Do you have a death wish?"

With a quiet laugh, Jean replied, "No, I just needed to talk to you. I may have misspoken before when I said I meant to get _hit_ by your car. I really just wanted your attention. Guess I jumped out too late."

Javert hesitated, before questioning, "Wait, did you...rob the market just so I would drive out here?" That couldn't be right.

Jean grinned. "Right you are, inspector. Well, Monsieur Savatier would have appreciated some groceries, so I thought I'd get two birds with one stone."

"That's insane," Javert retorted. "You could have looked up my number in the phone book, or called the station and asked for me. You don't have to rob a market and risk your life like that."

"You don't get it, I was already planning on robbing the market," Jean countered. "Anyway, the reason I needed to talk to you." He paused, turning slightly serious. "Why did you buy groceries for Madame Faucheux?"

Javert furrowed his brows at the younger man. "That's what this is all about?" Jean said nothing, so Javert sighed, looking out the front windshield. "I...suppose I felt bad that you were unable to get the groceries to Madame Faucheux. You were obviously very passionate about her needs, so I decided the right thing to do would be to finish the job for you. That _is_ what you asked Deputy Allard to do."

When Jean said nothing, Javert looked over at him, only to find him staring. Jean half smiled, then stated, "I think I like you, Javert."

With a scoff, Javert looked forward once more, starting his squad car. "You can decide: you're either taking what you stole back to the market, or I'm taking you to the station."

Jean thought about it, then admitted, "I don't think the store is going to take this food back since you smashed it." Javert tossed him a glare, and it made Jean laugh. "But, before you arrest me, can we please take this stuff to Monsieur Savatier?"

"Jean-"

"Please Javert?

Javert tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, then frowned at Jean. "You realize, this could cost me my job - the job I _just_ got."

With a nod that made it look like he was embarrassed, Jean replied, "I know. That's why it means a lot to me." He was a little surprised when the car lurched forward, and he gave a questioning look to Javert.

Javert, without looking over at him, said dully, "Put on your seat belt, Jean."

By the time they arrived at Monsieur Savatier's house, Jean was bouncing like a small child about to meet Santa Claus. As he placed the car in park, Javert said, "Alright, make it quick. Then we're going straight to the station. Try to run, and I will pursue you."

Jean hurried out of the car, toting his messenger bag. He knocked excitedly on Monsieur Savatier's front door. The old man's house was in horrible condition. Most of the paint had peeled off the siding, and what was left had faded to gray. Some of the black shingles were missing, or about to fall off. The front porch had broken boards, and Javert was a little surprised that Jean hadn't tripped in his rush up there.

Monsieur Savatier came to the door, with a look of curiosity as to who could possibly be paying him a visit. His face lit up immediately when he saw Jean, and he shook the young man's hand. Jean was saying something to Monsieur Savatier, who then noticed the police car parked in front of his house. Then, Jean handed over the groceries: a loaf of bread that was half-smushed, a bag of apples, all probably bruised now, and a box of frozen waffles which had a large dent in the cardboard.

Gracious for the gifts, Monsieur Savatier gave Jean a quick hug. The young man then hurried back to the squad car. Behind him, Monsieur Savatier's smile faded away, and he looked at Javert. Obviously, the old man felt guilty that Jean was about to be arrested, but it was hardly his fault. Jean was the one who needed to learn the law.

Jean slid back into his seat, rebuckling his safety belt. He grinned at Javert, and quietly said, "Thank you."

Javert couldn't help but give a small smile, which quickly left his features. "We're going to the station now." He began to read Jean his Miranda Rights, but the teenager looked too jovial to care. Javert worried slightly. Jean was obviously a nice boy, and Javert hated to see him being arrested again. It didn't seem like Jean had any plans of stopping his thievery in the future. Perhaps it was a mistake to drive him over to Monsieur Savatier's house.

Javert felt lost in his thoughts until they reached the station. He parked, and they both exited the vehicle. Javert stopped Jean to handcuff him, but Jean didn't seem to mind. The two walked into the station, and the officers in the lobby seemed a bit surprised to see them.

Deputy Allard came out of his office, surprise on his face. "Javert? Some of us got a little worried. You said you were going after the shoplifter, but then never said anything else."

Javert winced, having not noticed his mistake. "I'm sorry, Allard." He walked Jean over to the deputy, handing him over. "It was the Valjean boy again."

Allard cocked a brow. "Where are the stolen goods?" he asked.

With a shrug, Javert admitted, "When I found him, he'd already disposed of the evidence. He's refused to tell me who the delivery was for."

Allard shook his head. "Jean, this needs to stop. Eventually, your father is going to get sick of this, and you'll end up stuck here. Is that what you want?"

Jean looked at the ground. "I just want to help people." He walked away with another officer, glancing back at Javert with a little smile.

* * *

Javert made out his report, and was surprised that Jean was still locked up when he was finished. He visited the teen at his cell, crossing his arms. "What are you still doing here?" he asked.

Jean half smiled. "Sometimes Father likes to leave me here for a bit, let me sweat. I'm not worried." He stood from where he sat on a concrete bench, and walked over to the bars. "So, I wanted to thank you for covering for me, although I still don't know why you did it."

"To keep my job, of course." Had Javert admitted that he drove Jean to Monsieur Savatier's house, there would be hell to pay. Still he didn't want to mention that he felt sympathy for Jean. Although his methods were unorthodox, it did seem that his only wish was to help people.


	3. Chapter 3

Jean's father hadn't actually busted him out of jail until two days later. The entire time, Javert was worried, much like the rest of the police. Jean was a good lad, had didn't deserve to be sitting in jail, and there was the uncertainty of whether or not he would be bailed out this time.

However, the day rolled around that Monsieur Valjean called in, requesting his son's release, and wiring the bail money. Jean didn't look so cocky when he left that evening. Before, Javert had witnessed him strut out with a debonair attitude, but this time, he almost looked embarrassed, or ashamed. Of course, Father Madeleine had showed up, looking just as jovial as ever. He didn't look like he'd stressed over his grandson's condition at all the past few days.

Javert watched them leave, his hands folded behind his back. Deputy Allard walked up, laying a heavy hand on the young officer's shoulder. "Next time, he might be stuck here for good."

Looking at the tiled floor, Javert mumbled, "Let's hope there is no 'next time.'"

* * *

The next time Jean was caught stealing, Javert was at the office. He immediately stood when he saw Officer Colbert dragging the young man in by his elbow. Javert walked up to them quickly, asking, "Jean, you didn't steal again, did you?"

"Of course he did," Colbert answered for the young man. "He's just a rotten punk."

Javert scowled. "Don't talk about him like that. He's not just a thief." He turned saddened eyes to Jean. "Who was it this time, Jean?"

Jean just stared at the floor for a few seconds, acting as if he didn't intend to share his answer. Then he mumbled, "Tell ya later..." Then Colbert took him in the back to get him filed in.

Colbert approached Javert after Jean was behind bars, his arms crossed and his eyebrows knit together. "What is it with you and the Valjean kid? Why do you stick up for him like that?"

Javert sighed, and without looking up, replied, "It's called _compassion_. I wouldn't expect you to know anything about that, Colbert." He looked up at his fellow officer with narrowed eyes. "Jean only does what he does to help others. He's extremely selfless."

"He breaks the law, Javert. You need to learn the difference between what is right and what is wrong. Our job is to uphold the law, and showing pity for Jean isn't doing that."

"What if what is right and what is law aren't the same thing?" Javert knew he shouldn't be asking such questions. Colbert could easily report him for this, but for some reason, he didn't care in that moment.

Colbert left his desk at that point, and Javert went to check on Jean. The young man was sitting in his cell, staring at the floor, his hands folded in front of him. From a distance, it almost looked like he was praying, but when Javert drew closer, he saw that Jean's eyes were open, and he was merely deep in thought. He cleared his throat, and Jean glanced up at him, before stating, "It was Madame Palomer."

Javert cocked an eyebrow. "That strange woman that lives in the park?"

Jean nodded. "She needed bird seed for her pigeons. And I know she hasn't been eating, herself, lately. Any bread she's had, she's been sharing with the birds. She'd let herself starve before them." He was startled when the door to his cell slid open. "Wh-what are you doing?" he asked in surprise.

Javert stepped inside, closing the door behind himself. "I'm going to sit with you." He walked over, sitting on the concrete floor next to the bench Jean was on. "This is my break, anyway."

Swallowing, Jean looked down at the cracked, dusty floor. "Umm, thank you." After a moment of silence passed between them, he asked, "So, what's your life like?"

Javert looked back at him questioningly. "What?"

With a shrug, Jean elaborated. "You know a lot about me by now. I'm assuming you read my file already." When Javert looked away, he knew he was right. "So, tell me something about you. What were you like when you were my age?"

Thinking about the question for a moment, Javert took off his police cap, laying it on the floor. He sighed through his nose. "I was a lot like you, actually." He was silent for a moment before continuing. "I never really knew my father. He got arrested shortly after I was born. Burglary and attempted murder. After he got out, I...only saw him for a few minutes." He cleared his throat. "Then he disappeared, and I heard he got locked up again. I have no idea where he is now.

"It was just my mother and I for the longest time. She had different men all the time, but none of them stuck around long enough for me to get to know them. She died of syphilis when I was...maybe seventeen. Before that, I was stealing food for us, because she had a hard time keeping down a job. It was all I could do for her. No one would let me get a job because of who my father was.

"After she died, I emancipated myself in order to stay out of foster care for the next year. It wasn't too bad. I got to move out of my hometown, start over in a place where no one knew me or my parents. I decided to become a police officer, and here I am. It wasn't easy, but it was really worth it. I really feel like my own person now, and less like the shadow of my father."

When Javert finished his story, he looked up to see Jean staring at him. The younger man swallowed dryly, then looked away as he searched for what to say. He finally came up with, "Is that why you helped me? You took those groceries to Madame Faucheux, and you drove me to Monsieur Savatier's house."

Nodding lightly, Javert answered, "Yes, I suppose that's why I did it." He looked back at Jean. "How many more times are you going to be arrested?"

Jean shrugged, leaning back against the concrete wall. "Don't know." He paused, then turned to Javert. "How many times were you arrested when you were younger?"

With a little smile, Javert admitted, "I never was. I never got caught when _I_ stole food." He laughed at Jean's bewildered expression. "It's all in technique. Maybe I'd teach you, if it wouldn't cost me my job."

* * *

Jean was out on bail a few hours after his little pow-wow with Javert. He couldn't understand the officer. Just who's side was he on? He seemed so different now from when they'd met earlier that summer. Javert was all law when he tackled Jean to the ground, keeping him there until the authorities could arrive. Jean hadn't been tackled many times before. It had been slightly frightening - not that much ever scared Jean Valjean.

And now, Javert was different. He was understanding, empathetic. He had helped Jean, almost like an accomplice at times. Javert had treated Jean with kindness, instead of pity, unlike the other officers.

That night, as Jean stared into the floor mirror in his bedroom, he saw a deviant - a mutt who took what he wanted without regard for others. It was hard to believe that Javert had once been like him, mangy and feral. Now Javert was a wolf, dignified and reserved. But that day, he'd changed in Jean's eyes. He was no longer the cold wolf Jean had seen him to be before. Now he was a hound, just like Jean, who saw the need in other people's eyes, and served that need when he deemed it appropriate.

Jean wanted to be like that. Where would this road end, the one that he was on? Constantly stealing, although for good purposes, would only lead him down a path where no one could reach him, help him out, bring him home. He thought about Javert's father, how he'd only met his son once for a few minutes. Jean never wanted that if he had a family someday.

That night, Javert hardly left Jean's thoughts. Could he turn his life around, like Javert had? He prayed that there was still a chance for him.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hey, we actually had a review! Sweet! I hope you guys like this story so far. I know things are pretty slow right now, but things will get more exciting, soon. Also, I'd like to apologize for the inconsistency in the chapter lengths. I don't have Microsoft Word anymore, and I'm using Wordpad, which doesn't keep track of word count or pages, so I never know how long a chapter is until I go to post it. Anyway, here's the wall of fame.

Wall of Fame

CastiellaWinchester94


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